


What You Do To Me

by Mekina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mekina/pseuds/Mekina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean flirts. Sam doesn't approve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Do To Me

They don't talk about it.

There are lots of things that they don't talk about. There's a mile long list of Things Winchesters Don't Talk About. Things like Stanford, and Hell, and whether John Winchester was a good father or a jerkass drill sergeant. But even among all those things, this, between them, what they do, it's pretty damn high up the list. 'I'd rather chew my own arms off than talk about it' high.

Not like there's even any need to talk about it, anyway. It isn't like they're dating or anything. They don't take moonlit walks on beaches, or go out for dinner and stare at each other over wine and candles. They don't go to the movies together, or hold hands in public. Dean still flirts with waitresses in diners, hooks up with women in bars, and encourages Sammy to do the same. Which he doesn't. It's like he's allergic to one night stands. And, sometimes, it seems like he didn't get the memo about this not being a...Dean can hardly even stand to think this...relationship.

Yeah, he loves Sam. Of course he does. He sold his damn soul for him, after all, and he'd do it again. But this is his little brother here. Having some sort of weird thing going on with him is screwed up enough, thanks, without being boyfriends. And anyway, he isn't gay, so there's that too.

Sam, though, it's like he has other ideas. Like he wants them to be exclusive. He glowers when Dean flirts, and he stomps and scowls and snarls when Dean comes back to the motel room after hooking up with a woman. And, often enough, cuts him off. He even went so far as to shove Dean out of the bed one time when he crawled in next to him. What purpose depriving him of sex is supposed to serve, Dean isn't sure. Because if he isn't getting any from Sam, it makes him more likely to go elsewhere, right? 

There isn't any reason for Sammy to get all pissy, really. 'Cause yeah, he looks, and he flirts, and sleeps with women. But they aren't anything to him, beyond a way to get off. Sam's the one he comes back to every time, the one he leaves town with, and the only one he'll be with more than once. The only person who's more than a one night stand.

Dean knows this, and Sam should know it too. And if he doesn't, well, not like he'll ever tell him. Out loud, anyway. Because they don't talk about it. With words. But, in Dean's opinion, they can get their points across pretty damn well with tongues and teeth and hands. (If Sam had anything to do with it, they would probably be having girly heart to hearts every night about the depths of their love for each other. He tries to start conversations about this sometimes. And then Dean has to shut him up as fast as possible to avoid an embarrassing talk. Thankfully, that's quite easy. Kissing him usually does the trick, although he occasionally opts for dropping to his knees and sucking all coherence out of Sammy through his dick.)

So, yeah. They don't talk about it. Dean doesn't, at any rate. And every time Sam tries, Dean shuts him up. Surely his brother can't be that blind. He sees, doesn't he, that those women -and that one guy in the alley behind the bar when Dean was really drunk- don't actually mean anything. Not what Sam means. Can't he tell?

Apparently not. 'Cause if he could, they wouldn't be having the conversation they're having now as they get back to their motel room.

"- _flirting_ with her, Dean! Right there, in front of me, you were just-"

Dean strips off his jacket and goes for the mini fridge for a beer. He has a feeling he's going to need one to get through this.

"Winking, and complimenting, and, and..." Sam does that thing he only does when he's really pissed. That arms-to-the-sides thing that he denies every time Dean mentions it. "Flirting."

"Y'already said that, Sammy," Dean answers, dropping onto the end of his bed with his beer. He doesn't offer Sam one. Probably end up thrown at the wall anyway. "Yeah. I was flirting."

"You aren't even bothering to deny it." Sam does that other thing, the nostril flare. He shakes his head and shoves his hair behind his ears irritably. "Flirting with her," he repeats, again, like they both didn't already know it. "With me right there."

"Why is this such a big deal?" Dean asks tiredly. He's so sick of Sam's temper tantrums. "I've been flirting with chicks practically since I could walk, Sam. I don't get what your problem is."

Sam, who had been pacing back and forth, abruptly goes still. Shit. He's even more pissed off now.

"My problem?" The line of Sam's shoulders is tense. "You don't get my problem?"

He's almost definitely about to be yelled at. Not getting any tonight, either. Goddammit. "No, I really don't. You know I don't care if you fl-"

And that's all gets out, because just then he's hit with two hundred something pounds of not so little little brother. Sam pins his wrists to the bed, and heat flares in Dean. Fuck, but Sam taking control like that turns him on. He knows it too, the smug bastard. He's smirking a little bit as he grinds down.

Dean groans and tests Sam's hold on his wrists. He's not getting free; it's like iron. It just makes him even harder, and he groans as Sam rocks against him.

"You wanna know what my problem is? Huh?" Sam moves against him faster. It's been a while since they've done it like this, over the clothes dry humping. They usually manage to get at least halfway to naked. "The problem is that you're _mine._ "

Dean shudders and arches up against Sam. Well that's just...huh. A new one. He knew Sam was kinda possessive, but...he can't even think about it right now, not with Sam there, all over him, on top of him and holding him down and just. Owning him.

"I'm tired of it," Sam whispers, directly into his ear. His voice is all low and growly and it just does things to Dean. "Tired of seeing you leaving bars with women. And that one guy. Tired of having to sit out in the car knowing you're in here, with them."

"Offered to let you join in, Sammy," Dean gets out, but it comes out half moan as Sam thrusts against him.

"Tired of the marks they leave on you, Dean, those hickeys. Only I can do that now. Only- me - you're- mine," he growls, punctuating each word with a hard thrust.

Dean throws his head back. He's so close- he's- almost there, he just needs something-

"Mine," Sam whispers, then he's kissing Dean. Really, it's barely a kiss, mostly teeth, Sam biting and tugging at his lips. It's rough and probably if it goes on much longer he's going to have a split lip, but it's what he needed, apparently, because he's coming, with a long moan of _Sammy_ that gets lost in Sam's mouth, dick pulsing hot and slick into his shorts. It's going to be uncomfortable as all hell when it dries, but he can't bring himself to care because it feels so good.

He slumps back onto the bed, boneless. Half a minute later Sam comes too, gasping out, "Dean, Dean, _Dean_ ," then he's collapsing on top of him.

He puts up with it until his breathing has slowed, then shoves weakly at Sam. "Get off. You weigh a ton."

"Mmmhmmff," Sam says into his neck.

"Seriously, Sammy, get off."

Sam rolls off of him and onto his back, and they lay like that a little longer, until Dean's too uncomfortable with the drying come in his underwear. As he starts to get up, Sam grabs his arm and stops him.

"Dude, what the hell, I need a shower, lemme go."

"I meant it, Dean." Sam's got his serious face on, and good god, even getting laid doesn't stop him from wanting to _talk_. "I don't like it, you with those people. I don't want you to do that anymore."

"Sam-"

"No, come on. They don't...they don't mean anything to you, do they? They're just. Quick fucks is all they are, right? You don't need that. Isn't this enough? Just you and me?"

He thinks about it for a second. No more waitresses, or women from bars, no more anything but Sam. All the time, and every time. And it's, well, not so horrible. Not some awful torture to be with only Sam, the person he loves most in the world. Even if he never says it out loud.

"Yeah. Alright, man. No more." There it is. Out loud. He basically just agreed to a, dare he say it, _relationship_. With Sam. The world doesn't come crashing down around him. This thing with Sam can be enough. It probably always could have been, if he'd let it.

Sam grins at him, so bright and beautiful it makes his heart speed up. (God, he's turning into a girl.) "Okay, then."

"Now that that's settled, can you let me shower now? It's seriously uncomfortable."

His arm is released and he's finally allowed to go shower. Except five minutes later, when he's naked and under the blessedly hot water, the bathroom door opens and he sees Sam's hulking form through the shower curtain. That's not so bad. He went from facing a night of no sex to probably about to start round two.

This doesn't mean Dean's going to want to start talking or anything. And it's not like he's gonna take Sam out on dates. Or hold hands in public. Or-

As Sam's hand closes around his half hard dick, he thinks he could maybe, just maybe, he could be persuaded to do some of that. (But not the talking thing. Definitely not that. Anything else, though, with the way Sam's twisting his wrist, could most likely be arranged.)


End file.
